


Dave looks good in red

by asterCrash



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Couch Sex, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterCrash/pseuds/asterCrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat fawning over how cute his alien boyfriend is and musing on the differences and similarities between their species. While fucking, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dave looks good in red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prim_the_Amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts).



You’re cooking tonight, because Dave is an asshole who sucks, almost as much as you suck at his bizarre earth-human video games. It’s not that you’re bad at video games in general, it’s just that there’s never been a better example of how badly you fucked up frog breeding than the universe you created spitting out a video game controller with three handles. He’s sitting on the bench while you take your defeat out on the vegetables, looking like the smug asshole jerk-face dork that he is. God you’re so in love.

You pour your victims off the slice pallet into the boil barrel and put it on the temperature dispenser to get simmering, quickly turning back to smack Dave’s steadily reaching hand away from the bowl of pistachios that seems to have magically appeared when he sat down. You have no idea how he managed to _at random_ discover the alchemiter code for those infuriating crunch niblets, which are delicious enough that you’re honest to god salivating at the thought of them, yet just small enough and just the wrong shape that it’s completely impossible to open one with your claws. You’re left with one option any time he brings forth more of the teasingly untouchable treats.You have to let him feed them to you. You have no idea what the hell was wrong with human culture that he ranks putting his fingers between your teeth as less dangerous than strifing, but sometimes, just sometimes, you enjoy the change of pace. There’s just something about him that puts you at ease, like you don’t need to freak out about all the horrible stuff he could do if you leave yourself vulnerable because he’s _just as_ vulnerable and he never seems bothered by it. No part of him is sharp or hard. You love your soft and squishy alien matesprit. You love his feathery blond hair, the way it feels when you run your claws through it, because he actually _lets you_ put your claws on his head, he doesn’t recoil from your touch like you might with another troll. 

You're both still figuring your stuff out, but you do your best to make it work. Most nights it gets about as far as a hand down someone’s trousers but it's pretty rare that you actually get all the way undressed when you're together. You tried showering together once but didn't do anything too exciting, just some awkward touches followed by Dave falling on his ass after standing on a soap bar. It’s been nice though, taking things slow is new for you, not pressuring yourself into quadrants with new people, just sort of letting it happen on its own. Honestly, if past you could see you now he’d probably say this was some kind of pale-caliginous vacillation and obviously you two weren’t meant to be together otherwise there’d be more flips and you’d have known immediately and it would have been _serendipity_ and blah blah blah blah. Past you was an idiot.

You give the contents of the boil barrel a quick stir and tell Dave to pick out a movie. It takes the better part of ten minutes, copious amounts of profanity and a few gestures your lusus would be shocked you knew. Then again your guardian wasn’t very up to date on the latest hand gestures on account of having giant claws in place of opposable digits. You did see him do something you _think_ might have constituted flipping the bird at another lusus once, but this was followed by a very stern lecture about how it’s improper to lose your temper with strangers. Lots of “do as I screech monstrously, not as I do”. Defeated by your verbosity, Dave begrudgingly heads off to pick something out. At this point he knows what you like and even if he chooses something specifically to fuck with you it normally winds up being hilarious.

You meet him down on the couches with a bowl of whatever the hell you just cooked. You’ve basically had to invent entirely new cuisines out of the melange of Alternian and human foodstuffs you were able to alchemise in the lab. It was a pretty brutal first couple of months of trying to work out exactly what of each other’s food you could stomach, it didn’t hurt that the humans were both immortal and there is nothing heroic about puking yourself to death. It turns out their digestive tract could not handle spikeweed, which is the fucking staple of east-Alternian cuisine. Dave managed to summon up a bulb of something he called ‘ghar-lick’ which he said was the cornerstone of ‘pee-tsar’ which you’re pretty sure was him fucking with you, but whatever. Turns out trolls can stomach it, but it gives you the worst breath imaginable. Dave said that was the same for humans but you had to explain to him that your species has smell sensitive enough that some members can replace their vision entirely with scent. Bad breath is not a fucking acceptable compromise. Dave mourned the death of ‘eeta-lyan’ food and sulked for a week.

One thing you can fortunately agree on is the spicier the better. Pretty lucky considering trolls are the only Alternian species that enjoys capsaicin. Rose did some reading from a recovered encyclopedia and found out it was pretty much humans and cheese critters that enjoyed the taste on Earth, it was otherwise used as insect repellant. The best part however is that Dave is apparently a total wimp by human standards when it comes to spicy foods. He likes having chopped burnfruit involved in his food, but if he actually eats a piece himself on come the waterworks. It freaked you out really bad the first time, humans cry to get things out of their eyes as well as to show emotion, WHICH ISN’T CONFUSING OR ANYTHING, but honestly you’re kind of fascinated every time you come across one of these weird differences. Humans do so many things that would just be unthinkably intimate for trolls and they do them for no fucking reason? Get dust in your eyes? Guess you better start blubbering like you were just orphaned, you can’t just use your secondary set of eyelids to clean you ganderbulbs because you plain forgot to evolve a second set of eyelids, like a moron. Or let’s say you want to amicably greet a friend, have you considered making a fist and moving it towards them wordlessly? Why your friend will certainly punch your knuckles with their own before making an explosion sound with their mouth. IT WOULD ONLY BE POLITE.

Dave’s already got the movie started when you shove the food at him and get comfy on the couch. You’re pleased to see it’s a Jackie Chan one. You haven’t seen stunts or choreography as real as his movies since Troll Will Smith accidentally decapitated an extra on Thresh Prince. His bumble and charm only makes it more devastating when he inevitably unleashes the whirlwind of chaos and destruction that is always within him. He is easily your favourite non-troll non-romance actor. The movie is Rush Hour and it’s a ‘buddy cop’ film, or at least that’s the only part of Dave’s description that isn’t probably open sarcasm decrying it as the triumph of a generation. You’ve learned ‘buddy cop’ is human code for ‘prolonged bulge pulling exercise in which we build up to a pale romance between two middle aged males who both profess to enforce the law despite almost never following it themselves, eventually to cut the movie short before anyone gets in a pile or even lets out a hint of a shoosh’. 

You’ve questioned Dave at length about what the fuck is wrong with human cinema that this thing is not only considered acceptable it is apparently ubiquitous. Initially there were some roadblocks because Dave still hasn’t really gotten a grasp of the finer points of moirallegiance, in spite of (or perhaps with the express intention of spiting) your expert tutelage. Eventually you got it out of him that they weren’t allowed to do it on screen because humans didn’t let characters of the same sex have any physical intimacy in action movies. You screamed for about half an hour solid when you realised you were responsible for creating a universe where seven eighths of all romance movies were either censored, butchered or just considered too unthinkable to begin with. Dave did a lot of weird stuff to try and calm you down and you proceeded to tearfully show him films in every quadrant in as many different ways as possible to promise him that there’s more to life than shitty loveless action movies and one sided flushed rom-coms.

You're about fifteen minutes into the movie when Dave steals a piece of dirtapple out of your bowl and the game is on. You make a dive at his retreating fork but your teeth close on empty air. He retrieves the now unloaded fork from his (soft, pink, gorgeous) lips and takes up an aggressive stance, clearly intent on stealing your hard earned dinner from under you nose. You spin round in your seat to press him away from you with your back, rapidly shoveling food into your mouth. It's tricky avoiding the feints and stabs as Dave tries to wield his fork around you, digging blindly at where he hopes your bowl will be. Eventually you managed to scoop the last of your meal into your craw and turn around to let out a triumphant laugh. What you didn't expect however, was the possibility that the fork ruse was a distaction.

He's on you in a second, wiggling fingers fly straight to your grubscars and set to torturing you. You let out the feeble laughter of the doomed as you writhe in his grip. Dave's smirking above you, because of course he is, and those awful sunglasses are still fixed on his face as always. You bat at his arms ineffectually, resisting for the sake of it rather than any genuine desire to make this end. You're careful not to retaliate in kind though, Dave's okay with a lot of things but tickling can scare him pretty badly. You think it might be a thing with his human lusus but you've never pried. You don't mind letting him do the tickling though, being this vulnerable around someone, well it's just so fucking kinky you're amazed you can keep it in your sheathe while he's going at you.

Eventually the tickle fight dies out and you're left with a Strider astride you, still fucking smirking, while the movie plays forgotten in the background. You let out the exasperated sigh of the eternally hard-working matesprit who has to do everything around here if anyone wants to even get close to pailing. Then you flick your hips and throw both of you off the couch to crash on the floor below. While he's still registering what just happened you go down for a peck on the lips. They're so much softer than your own, due in no small part to the fact that he can comfortably keep his teeth inside his mouth all the time and therefore doesn't have to deal with constantly chewing holes in his own lips. Then again with chompers as hilariously blunt as his own you're surprised he's able to chew anything. You pull back a little, give him space to process. You need him to kiss you back, your little nonverbal safety that he's actually okay with you two doing more than horsing around. He had trouble at first with the idea that he might not suffer from the fucked up human delusion that you had to pick a gender to be and a gender to fuck and god help you if you ever change your mind. Fortunately for your selfish ass he's been coming around to the idea more, which you're grateful for. Evidently you ended up with the better human male of the set and good riddance to John bulge-teasing "not a homosexual" Egbert.

Tentatively, he lifts up off the ground and brings his lips to yours again. You love watching the smooth way his body curls, one fluid motion made up of dozens of muscles working like locomotion. It's so different from the way your body still remembers evolutionary leftovers like being able to fold around limited joints between segmented thoraxes. It's pretty hot. You follow him back down to the floor, deepening the kiss as you go. He brings a hand up to curl clawless in your hair and you slide one sharp nailed hand up his shirt to feel those amazing mammalian muscles in action.

You keep your hand down there once he's lying on the floor again, savouring the warmth and tracing idle paths across his paper thin human flesh with your palm. You both have a lot of issues with seeing red blood all over the place so you've learned to be very careful wherever you might break skin. Dave taught you how to do this weird suctiony thing with your mouth instead, so you could kiss him hard and leave marks to savour for days later without the risk of puncturing his skin with a bite. For his part he bites down as hard as he can with those blunt bone nubs he passes off as teeth. He's never going to break your skin, but the bruises he leaves are fucking incredible. Kanaya had to have a very serious meddling session with you to ensure Dave wasn't hurting you and it's okay you can come to her with your problems and do the two of you need an auspistice because she's literally the only other troll with the experience to help you. After her fussing fit and a very awkward conversation you brought Rose in to explain comparative jaw strength. Dave just sat with his head in his hands and began screaming quietly into them when Rose explained that she and Maryam had been so busy with their bloodplay she hadn't even bothered with teaching Kanaya about hickeys.

He lifts your shirt up and off you, and you get a glimpse of his nails as he begins exploring the grey of your thorax. The painted trimmed stubs at the end of his fingers are one of the most fascinating of your differences. You'd hung out with him while Rose painted his black the first time, he talked the whole way through, no matter how much Rose complained about him testing her concentration. He was so pleased with how they looked when she was done, he alchemised a bunch more of the paint and put some time into learning how to do it himself. Tonight he's wearing a deep ruby shade to match his pyjamas, with a bright red rendition of his old scratched record sign painstakingly detailed on each nail. The sign is in your red, the red of his eyes and your blood. They give him an exoticism you almost never get otherwise. Something about those tiny delicate excuses for claws being treated like something beautiful instead of something dangerous, it just makes you want him all the more. Plus, Dave looks good in red.

You can feel his bulge between your legs now, despite humans deciding non-retractable genitals were a good idea you usually can't see it outlined in his pants or feel it if you touch him, it's only when he gets excited it becomes noticeable. You love the feel of the soft squishy tissue swelling up, stiffening along its length and pressing upwards to rub against the outer lips of your nook. You've both rattled off at length all the euphemisms your respective species had for bulges and their uses. The main difference seems to be where you would talk about wiggling he talks about hardness. The feel of his hardness against you is certainly making you a little wiggly yourself. Your sheathe is dilated and you can feel yourself swelling inside. It's only through sheer force of will that your bulge hasn't made an appearance yet. You set your hips in motion rubbing up and down his length with your crotch. Because his earth-human boner doesn't move on its own it seems they handle it themselves through a complicated system of thrusting. You're still getting used to the idea of moving like that when you're together but from the way he moans beneath you you're clearly better than when you first started.

Eventually your thighs start cramping from the constant flexing so you stand up off him. He lets out a whine as you separate and it's pretty damn cute. The sounds he makes when you two get to play together are so unlike anything you heard on Alternia, all breathy noises flitting back and forth between high pitched squeals and loan pitched gasps. There’s nothing like a chirr or normal mating calls, though he sometimes makes a growly purring sighing noise when you’re cuddling he actually just can’t make his chest rumble properly to make the soft vibrations you’d expect. He loves it when you make your own sounds, though you complain you’re not doing them on purpose. The two of you synced up sounds a lot like some of Dave’s music. You actually talked in earnest about making a recording of the two of you together for him to remix. You’re not sure you want anyone to hear the buzzes he can get out of you, but you’d be pretty down for showing off how pretty you can make him sigh.

You reach down a hand and lift him up into an embrace and then, because you didn’t stop being an asshole just because this goofball makes your pump biscuit dance, you pull his shirt off in one quick motion. He’s immediately shivering pretty bad at the cold and you notice the little nubs on his chest start poking out. They are for some reason, very, very cute little dots of even softer flesh than the rest of him and he absolutely goes wild when you play with them, even lick them a little. For tonight though, you have bigger plans. You hold him close and kiss him deeply, because you are a master of the romantic arts, then bring your fingers down to run along the waistband of his pyjama pants. You look into his eyes, well, his eyes as best you can see them through a pair of tinted lenses and do your best not to fuck this question up by asking it out loud. He, in true coolkid tradition, doesn’t give you much to go off, just the slightest hint of a nod. You hook your fingers into his pants and slide them off his hips to drop to the floor, leaving him in only his sunglasses and scratched record boxers. He tries to undo your belt buckle so you can both be assholes standing around in your underwear but it takes twenty seconds of fumbling at the unfamiliar catch for him to give up and delegate your own undressing to you. You don’t see what’s so hard, you just twist the flap, rotate the clicker and then flip it all over once and it comes undone. Trousers discarded the two of you sit back down to the couch, hands all the more uncertain on each other now that there’s no barriers between your skin.

You go on top, because he feels the cold a lot more strongly than you do, not surprising considering his species was diurnal rather than nocturnal. Your hips are more or less mashed together at this point, and with only his boxers for covering you can see the outline of Dave’s junk pretty clearly, stark and hard, straining against the material. Your own external equipment is begging for escape but you’re doing your best to hold it in. You can feel his warmth against you and you just know your bulge would be all about that business, but you still want to hold back. You really want your first time doing this sort of thing to be _just right_. Of course that plan goes right out the window when he puts his hand on your lower back and every wet hot feeling you’ve ever had comes pouring out of you. You are going to strangle whoever the fuck told him about that sensitive spot. Your bulge has pretty much filled your underpants and your nook is busy drenching them in your sticky red genetic material. You’re half worried that Dave would freak out from the sudden presence of your love tentacle but you feel his own bulge twitch up against you. All your fooling around so far has taught you that he’s having fun when it’s twitching.

You bring a claw down and, with extreme caution, slip his boxers down just enough to free his member. It half looks like something out of a horror film, you could see it starring as some retro movie monster about an evil organ from outer space that rampages across the city and tries to eat the lead hero’s pale love interest. You almost think that sounds like something you should make yourself, Dave would probably be up for it if it didn’t involve waggling his erection into a camera for two hours. Once you’ve taken the appropriate amount of time to assess its inherent ridiculousness you release your majestic bulge to strengthen the comparison of weird alien and normal troll. Your bulge however does not care for the differences and slides around his dick in a spiral, holding on like they’re palemates about to be separated by intergalactic war. Dave makes some more of those cute high pitched noises and holds on to you for dear life as your lengths intertwine, yours squeezing and slick where his pulses with heat and warmth. It feels incredible, even when he begins to rock his hips up into you, warmth like no other troll could ever give you, simply because no one else had ever shared your red, red blood. 

You continue like this for a while, his arms wrapped around you and exploring the sensitive skin of your back, seemingly out of desperation to make you feel as good as he’s evidently feeling himself. You keep your hand down on his stomach, idly stroking the soft tufts of blond hair that lead down to pool on the mound just above his crotch. It’s only when his shame globes (what messed up species decides to keep their shame globes on the outside and then cover them with hair?) rub up against your achingly empty nook that you decide you want something more. You hold Dave down with a hand to stop his rutting against you, then carefully disentangle yourself from his warmth. You can see that you’ve managed to paint him up like the candy canes he and Lalonde alchemised for their holiday of home intruding fat men in garish red costumes who then leave toys for wigglers and vanish for another year. It seems like a terrifying thing to celebrate, but you have to admit you’ve never seen a tree quite so magnificent as the kringlefucker.

You lift yourself above him, positioning yourself so that the strange, mushroom like protrusion at the top of his dick is resting on the outer lips of your nook. He doesn’t even whine this time, just breathes tightly, all tense with anticipation. He brings a hand up to his face and lifts his glasses delicately off so that for the first time tonight you can really look into his eyes. The red of his irises is complemented by the pearly white of his sclera, wetness glistening at the corners. You’ve fooled around enough by this point that the sight of his colourless tears doesn’t terrify you like it once did. You lower yourself down onto him slowly, gently. His eyes squeeze shut and his head tilts back, teeth biting into his lip in a way that’s almost trollish and yet so much sexier somehow. His hands come down to rest on your ass, squeezing you encouragingly as you take him further into you. The shape of him is just wrong, your insides were made for something that could curl up inside you as it went, filling the space available rather than a curved rod spearing its way through, but you take him none the less. Even when it hurts the hurt is worth it to see him swallow deeply as you swallow him. Even little details like that bump on his throat that Lalonde doesn’t have, everything about him is so different from anything you could have experienced before the game and yet everything feels so comfortable and familiar, like even if your bits weren’t designed to interlock you were made to come together. At last you’re at the base of his length, all of him you can get inside you, warm like a fire lit in your nethers. You do your best to lift up and down with his little needy thrusts, grinding your hips together at the bottom of his reach and pulling back gently when he pushes up into you. Your bulge curls around a hand and you squeeze yourself to complement the way your nook squeezes him inside of you. You feel him swelling even more within you, you weren’t sure he could get any bigger but apparently he just needed the appropriate motivation. He’s breathlessly clawing at you now, painted nails scraping uselessly over sensitive skin. He manages to choke your name out, just once, before you feel him begin to release inside you. All the schoolfeeding about pailing was very much geared towards making sure every little troll knew exactly how to make their contribution when the imperial drone came to your lawnring. It said nothing about how to handle your alien matesprit pouring his material into you in stilted jets of hot fluid. Your body more or less improvises and you find yourself tipping over the edge into your own orgasm. You manage to get your bulge under control enough that you don’t spray him in the face or anything like that, but a small flood of sweet smelling red fluid is covering his stomach before you finish. Dave is kind of comatose in his own release as your nook’s thinner material cascades down onto his legs. You yourself collapse down onto his chest with a wet thud.

You don’t even bother to clean up, lying on top of each other and just breathing it in while you watch the rest of the movie. At some point Dave puts his sunglasses back on that’s your cue to gently break out of the cuddle. You both clean up as much as possible and head for the ablution block naked, not wanting to get the slurry coating both of you onto your otherwise fine clothes. You honestly never thought you’d like the look of your genetic material on someone else but, well, Dave looks good in red.


End file.
